


Red Light, Green Light

by Hella_Queer



Series: Playground Rules [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anxiety, Dealing with Emotions, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, hinata is a caring boyfriend, kageyama has feelings too okay, they are trying their best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-04 16:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12774921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hella_Queer/pseuds/Hella_Queer
Summary: Kageyama tries his hardest to be strong for the both of them. But when he can’t, Hinata has no problem taking up that role.Or four times Hinata saves Kageyama, and the one of many times he saves himself.





	Red Light, Green Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [day](https://archiveofourown.org/users/day/gifts).



> For Day, my friend, my brother in arms in all things shitty, who is a light and a warmth and a fear and a hope, who deserves something Good and Kind. I hope this is one of those.

*

*

*

_**+Family Matters+** _

Three months, two weeks, five days and one painfully silent dinner later, Hinata finally rips off the bandage. 

“Why didn’t you tell me your parents kicked you out?”

He hadn’t meant to overhear that phone conversion all those months ago. It had been the morning after Kageyama found him, hiding on his couch feeling like absolute garbage. After their ride through town, and their night spent in Kageyama’s bed, huddled together with their soft words and warm touches. In the morning he woke alone, which simply wasn’t allowed. 

Hinata had tiptoed to the top of the stairs and heard Kageyama’s unhappy murmuring. He had wanted to go down and wrap himself around his boyfriend, but after hearing _”Yes, mom”_ he decided to stay put, too curious and still too sleepy to be responsible. But he was also cold, so he turned to head back down the hall, back to bed and the warmth and the promise of morning cuddles that would easily morph into afternoon kisses. But he was stopped once again. 

_”Then I’ll leave!”_

The words were filled with a venom that stung Hinata’s heart, because Kageyama hadn’t sounded angry. He sounded hurt. 

Hinata hadn’t stayed there for much longer, and when Kageyama returned to him with two mugs of hot chocolate and a bag of gingerbread cookies, Hinata had decided to wait for a better time to bring up the phone call. But a better time never came. Kageyama’s birthday was upon them faster than they had anticipated, with Christmas just a few days after. Kageyama’s parents were absent until New Years, and by then the two had already returned to school to finish out the semester. 

And then, with the help of the Hinata’s, Takeda-sensei, Coach Ukai, and their old team who had stayed close to home, they were able to get an apartment. A one bedroom place that was small and drafty, but close to Kageyama’s new university, and not too far from the station. 

With some encouragement from Yachi, Hinata has decided to give Uni one more chance. Mostly to snatch up all those work study opportunities but still, Kageyama is incredibly proud of him. So proud in fact, that he forgot about his boyfriend’s misadventures into eavesdropping. It’s been so long, he had hoped Hinata put the incident out of his mind. He was wrong. He’s always wrong these days. 

“Because they didn’t kick me out,” Kageyama sighs, grabbing their dishes to take to the sink. They have a small dining table now, that folds up like a lawn chair. They put it behind the couch when it’s not in use, or when they’re too lazy to get it out. Usually whoever doesn’t clean the dishes puts the table back. Like with all of his problems, Kageyama hopes that if he ignores Hinata long enough, he’ll go away. And like with all of his problems, Hinata follows after him, more insistent than before. 

“Is that why you wanted to move so quickly? Because you were homeless?” Hinata stands very close to him, wearing the face he makes when he doesn’t wanna frown. Kageyama knows he isn’t angry with _him_ , even though he should be. Things would be so much easier if Hinata got angry with him. 

“I wasn’t homeless, dumbass.” The name feels wrong now, stale. He hasn’t said it in a long time. “They didn’t throw me out in the street. I told them about my transfer and they said I couldn’t live at home again. Not that I was even planning to.” 

He had never intended to live with his parents, no matter how close his school was. The bowl in his hands slips and clunks loudly around the sink before he can grab it. Hinata jumps a little, and Kageyama grips it tighter so it won’t fall again. 

“I don’t get it,” Hinata says, looking truly at a loss. “Why wouldn’t they want you at home, even for a few months? They’re your _parents_.” 

And it sounds so simple when Hinata says it. Effortless. They’re his parents, so _of course_ they’d want to see him. Why wouldn’t they want him home? _Why_ wouldn’t they want him home? Why wouldn’t they _want_ him home? Kageyama has spent too many nights thinking the same thing, over and over until it made sense. It never has. 

“When has that ever meant anything?” 

There it is again, the hurt. Kageyama can taste it on the back of his tongue, so he knows Hinata hears it too. Sure enough, Hinata turns off the water and guides him away from the sink, holding tightly to his wet hands. Kageyama doesn’t protest, his moderate mood dropping like a bowl in the sink. Had that been emotional foreshadowing? 

When Hinata has him where he wants him, which is on the couch, he gets comfy in his lap, wrapping his arms and legs around him as tight as he can. Kageyama wants to change positions, and makes a halfhearted attempt before Hinata quietly shushes him. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Hinata rubs soothing circles on the back of his neck with his thumb, and holds his cheek with his other hand. Kageyama can’t look him in the eyes for more than a few seconds at a time, wishing he could rewind time and prevent this discussion. 

“It’s not that big of a deal.” Kageyama’s chest feels tight, like his ribs are squeezing his lungs. “My parents aren’t like yours. Open and close and stuff. When I was younger things seemed fine, but then they changed. I know they love me, and I love them.” 

_So why don’t you visit? Why don’t they call? Why didn’t they want you home? Why are you lying?_

“I don’t understand.” Hinata bites his lip, trying his hardest to grasp a concept he was never taught. And it isn’t his fault, not in the slightest. Hinata grew up surrounded by love and determination. Those were his strongest qualities. They’re what drew Kageyama to him in the first place. They’re why Kageyama feels like he can tell him anything, without having to be afraid of himself. 

So he talks. 

Once upon a time the Kageyama family was normal. Both parents worked hard, but they always made time for their son. Until the year he turned fifteen, and their home became a hub where they all happened to meet up, instead of living there together. Once upon a time Kageyama could go to them for anything. Until the year he turned seventeen, and burned any bridges that had remained. 

“At first I told them I was bisexual,” Kageyama says into Hinata’s hair. “Because it was easy to admit I liked guys so long as they thought grandkids were still an option.”

Hinata makes a sound like a cat coughing up a hairball. “Why does _that_ matter?” They’ve added a blanket to their two man pile, and Hinata makes sure Kageyama is fully covered. 

Kageyama shrugs, though he clearly has an answer. Hinata finds that he does this a lot, plays down his knowledge, diminishes his intelligence. He doesn’t like it. 

“Our family is small, and my cousins are too young to be thinking about having kids. Everyone thought I would be the first to like, I don’t know, get on the baby making train or something.” He bares his teeth in a grimace, minutely soothed by Hinata’s lips on his chin. 

“When my dad found out what my tattoos meant, I swear he was gonna fucking hit me.” Kageyama closes his eyes against the memory. He had never seen the man so shocked, so angry with him. His mother hadn’t spoken to either of them until a few days later. “I told them I was getting a crow. They didn’t see it until the next day. We ended up cutting the vacation short.” 

He still feels like a scumbag, even now. His parents hardly ever got time off at the same time, and the three of them rarely spent time together at home, let alone on vacation. He had been excited, but didn’t want to show it in case plans got canceled last minute. Knowing _he_ was the reason things ended badly made him sick. But he’s honestly not surprised. He always seems to make things worse. 

Hinata is silent in his arms now, which only fuels the fire of his train of anxious thoughts. Kageyama tries to give him time though, because they’re older, mature, they think things through before telling what’s in their hearts. He’s not allowed to do that anymore, speak without thinking. He was never allowed to do that but he did it anyway for _so long_ no wonder everyone hates—

“Is that why they weren’t home during winter break?” Kageyama chances a glance down at Hinata, and doesn’t see his eyes. It’s probably for the best. Kageyama’s face feels fever warm, and his throat feels sore. 

“Yes,” he confesses, tripping back down unwanted memory lane. “I told them I wanted to bring you round, and suddenly they’ve got plane tickets. I...didn’t know if you even wanted to see me then, but I told them we were coming just so I could have the house to myself. In case I had fucked up for good this time.” 

Fingers dig harshly into his sides as Hinata grunts. He absolutely hates it when Kageyama talks about himself like this, like he’s an unwanted stain on a white shirt. 

“How many times were you alone at home?” Too many times to count, but he remembers all the ones he hates. All the times he craved attention and begged for interaction, but his reputation didn’t allow him to ask for it. 

“Shouyou.” 

_”Tell me.”_

“It’s not important now, okay?” Please stop please stop please stop...

Hinata sits back and glares up into his face, his own little round face pink with anger. Anger _for_ him, for the Kageyama he couldn’t protect, the one he couldn’t love in time. 

“You being alone is _wrong_! You should never be alone. And it _is_ important because they _hurt_ you.” Hinata brings him down until their foreheads touch, until he can press his words to Kageyama’s cheek. “It doesn’t matter how long ago it was. You were hurt. You’re allowed to say it. It’s okay to feel it.” 

But it can’t be. It shouldn’t be. He’s an adult living on his own now. He’s not a little kid anymore. He should be fully functional on his own but he’s _not_! What the hell is wrong with him? 

“They hurt me.” The words are like rocks in a blender. Hinata’s head is tucked under his chin now, and he’s squeezing him tight. If he were a teddy bear his seams would rip and the stuffing would pour out. He wants the hug tighter. 

“They hurt me,” Kageyama whispers, too many meanings in those three little words. Not just meant for his parents. “No one was there..” 

“I was,” Hinata whispers back. “Even when you didn’t know. I was there. I’m _here_ , I promise.” 

Kageyama let’s himself be held now, his body no longer resisting. He lets himself be _here_ , in his tiny apartment with his tiny boyfriend whose place in his heart is big enough to outshine all of his pain, for right now.

And right now, he lets himself cry. 

~+~

 _ **+Glowstone+**_

He still gets nightmares, though not as frequent as he used to. But that almost seems to make it worse, like they have time to build up and create new sets, add in current life things with old forgetting things, until a new hellish stage play is ready for opening weekend. 

When Kageyama jolts up, shirt sticking to his chest in the late June heat, he hears the bedside lamp click on. Soft, yellow light illuminates the other side of the bed, leaving him in the shadows. Alone. 

In reality the light in the hall is still on, seeping under the door. Hinata must’ve forgotten to turn it off after he finished typing his paper. Kageyama’s own half started assignments scream at him from his bag in the corner. He ignores them. His problem quota is already filled at the moment. 

“You okay?” Hinata asks, wiping the remnants of sleep from his eyes. He’s wearing Kageyama’s old _’Setter Soul’_ shirt, and it’s bunched up at his waist after twisting and moving in his sleep. He looks adorable, and Kageyama tries his best to focus on him and nothing else. 

He thinks about faking a leg cramp, but it’s dismissed immediately. Hinata has woken up crying due to knee pain more times than Kageyama has cared to see. And he’s never faked physical pain before. He’s always played through it. He wondered why the pain on the inside is harder to muscle through. 

“Bad dream,” he says. “Nightmare,” he elaborates. Bad dreams were deflated volleyballs and finding out the milk had gone bad, showing up naked to class and fighting the ghost train with his elderly neighbor who he was certain was haunting his dreams despite still being alive at eighty-eight. Tonight was something else. 

Hinata waits for him, patient and calm, so different from how he used to be. Back when he could jump to the stars and bring some down for Kageyama to see. When he could race against the rising sun. Kageyama stares unseeingly at his hands on the bedcovers, until the mattress creaks as Hinata turns to root around in the dresser. 

“Wanna play speed?” He asks, holding up a deck of cards. He doesn’t wait for an answer, and insteads climbs out from under the covers to sit across from Kageyama in bed, right foot tucked under his left thigh. He used to sit pretzel style. 

“You suck at speed, you’re too slow.” Yet Kageyama feels like he’s underwater. He’s stopped shaking, but his mouth is dry and his eyes are still heavy, like there are thousands of microscopic sandbags tied his his eyelashes. Wait. That sounds like a really cool idea for a drawing. He needs to remember this so he can text it to Yachi in the morning. Sandbag eyelashes. _Sandbag eyelashes._

They play a few lazy rounds before Kageyama musters up a bit more energy. Back in Karasuno they’d play during lunch, and it always ended in screaming and detention, even after they started dating. After practice they’d race to the bike rack to see whose cards they would bring the next time. 

“That’s three in a row for me Kage _yaaaaah_ ma.” Hinata yawns, looking like a puppy that keeps nodding off. He’s trying his best to keep Kageyama’s mind occupied, saying whatever comes to mind, filling his boyfriend’s silence. But he’s running out of batteries. 

Kageyama gathers up the cards and puts them back in the box, swatting away Hinata’s meekly protesting hands. “You’ve got a test tomorrow. You need to sleep.” Once Hinata was in dreamland he’d take a walk maybe, get some fresh air. 

Hinata moves back to his side of the bed, back to the light, but he shows no signs of going to bed. “Not until you feel better. Let’s watch the highlights of that cooking show Noya-senpai showed us last month.” He makes to grab his phone, but Kageyama reaches out of the darkness to stop him. 

It isn’t fair how hard Hinata works just to keep him level, how much he sacrifices to make sure Kageyama doesn’t go wandering into traffic. And the worst part is that Hinata _wants_ to take care of him. Anyone else would’ve sleepily patted his face and rolled back over. But this…literal nightlight of a human being no doubt had a list of things to use to calm him down. It was more than Kageyama deserved. 

“It was our last game. In my dream.” He doesn’t know why he’s coming clean now. Hinata had given him an out, an excuse to forget and sleep and move on. Apparently he likes making things difficult for them. 

If Hinata is surprised, either by the confession or the dream itself, he doesn’t show it. Kageyama is positive that Hinata has dreamed about it more than he has, and that makes him feel even shittier. 

“It was my fault.” His gaze travels to the crutches by the closet, the restraint band in the corner with the brace Hinata wears during the day. 

Hinata’s already shaking his head, not doubt annoyed by the direction this is going. It’s a year old at this point. “Kageyama.” 

“I made that toss to you.” The one that ruined him, the one that changed his entire life. 

_Kageyama feels the ball in his hands, half a second while his brain calculates faster than any computer. He sees Hinata running, leaping, soaring above the net. He feels the rush of adrenaline as the score changes in their favor. He turns, expecting Hinata to leap into his arms. But he doesn’t. He won’t. Not anymore._

Hinata doesn’t mindlessly reassure him, and for that Kageyama is grateful. Sometimes nice words just aren’t right. They’re too passive and flowery, fake. And that’s such a lame thought when people even bother to acknowledge you at all. Who was he to pick and choose his comforts when the very notion of being thought of at all was a privilege? If Hinata broke up with him right this second, Kageyama wouldn’t even be surprised. 

But Hinata doesn’t break up with him. He very calmly and loving cuffs Kageyama on the back of his head, before drawing him towards his side of the bed. 

“Listen to me.” He squishes Kageyama’s cheeks until he resembles a fish, holding his gaze with tired eyes. “That was an accident, okay? It wasn’t anyone’s fault. You’ve tossed to me a thousand times, and I’ve gotten hurt playing before. That wasn’t your fault.” 

Kageyama’s brain doesn’t even pretend to believe that. “It has to be.” 

“ _Why?_ ” 

“Because it’s not yours! And if it’s not yours then it has to be mine.” 

_The silence of the once cheering crowd is deafening, but nothing haunts him more than Hinata’s choked whimpers as he clawed at his hand, begging with his eyes for Kageyama to help him._

“It was a risky quick and it was too fast. I _knew_ It was too fast. I pushed you out of your limits and you got hurt! How is that not my fault?” 

There! Hinata’s got that intense stare, the one he wore before every big game they played. Kageyama has never been on the receiving end of it, and he’s kind of wishing Hinata would kick him out already. If he was allowed to pack a bag he could wander around the city until morning, find a motel to crash in for the rest of the week, then maybe beg Iwaizumi-san to let him stay with him for a while. He’d ask Oikawa, but his former former captain was off training for the National team, so he wouldn’t need his input. Of course, being a responsible and nontoxic boyfriend, Iwaizumi-san would probably ask Oikawa before—

“Are you saying I’m weak?”

The record scratch meme perfectly describes Kageyama’s haphazard thoughts. He blinks a few time and finally focuses in on the brown eyes burning twin holes in his face. Hinata’s fingers press harder into his skin, but he doesn’t use his nails, even though he could. 

Kageyama is, how they say, at a loss for words. “What? No! What the hell?!” How had he gotten to that conclusion? What branching path did his mind take? Kageyama knew he was bad at hearing people, but it was like Hinata had cotton in his ears. 

If his fingers were a brand, Kageyama’s cheeks would have five marks on either side of his face. “I’ve been able to keep up with you since our first practice! Even though I was absolute shit I could still hit your tosses _with my eyes closed._ So don’t _ever_ say you pushed me too hard when all I ever wanted was to be faster.” 

Kageyama doesn’t realize he’s shaking until Hinata wraps his arms around his chest to make him stop. “Tobio.” His name on those lips is water dowsing a campfire. He’s nothing but smoke now. “Sometimes.. something things just _happen_ , and it’s no one's fault.” 

He knows that all too well, but it doesn’t make it any better. Knowing the truth doesn’t make it hurt less. 

“That’s not _fair_.” His voice cracks, but he doesn’t allow the tears, not tonight. 

Kageyama butts his head against Hinata’s chin until he’s pulled down to lay on his chest. He’s only half in the darkness now, the rest of him bathed in the light that Hinata doesn’t turn off. He wonders what Hinata’s nightmares look like, if he remembers the pain as vividly in his waking hours. He’s described them, his dreams, but words only go so far. Kageyama will always listen, though, will always be there for him. 

“I know it’s not fair,” Hinata sighs. “But it’s also not fair that I get to keep you all to myself, and not share you with the world if I don’t want to.” Kageyama snorts, muscles relaxing as familiar fingers rub circles in between his shoulder blades. 

“Who’d be stupid enough to want me?” 

“”You’re looking at him,” Hinata whispers, pinching some skin between his fingers. “The luckiest dumbass to ever live.” Warm lips touch Kageyama’s forehead, and he responds in kind by pulling down the neck of his old shirt and kissing the two blue tally marks above Hinata’s collarbone. 

“Nah. I think that’s me.” 

~+~

_**+Untimely Attack+** _

_You left your laptop charger in the computer lab. It’s the only one you have and someone has no doubt stolen it by now. You can’t afford a new one. You’re going to fail all your classes. Again._

_There’s a little kid staring at you, wave to him! But don’t smile yours isn’t right. Look away you’re staring! No, not that fast people will think you’re a creeper. Great he’s crying. Nice job asshole._

On Thursdays Kageyama’s schedule lined up with Hinata’s in a way that meant they both took the same train back home to the apartment after class, with Hinata’s stop being twenty minutes after his. They usually got ramen on those days, or meat buns for old times sake. It was nice spending time together when they both had energy to spare, and getting out once a week was _healthy_ and _productive_ and all those buzzwords that Kageyama had to fight himself not to rebell against. 

Thursday’s are the easiest because he has a routine that seldom changes, which means he doesn’t need to think too much about, well, anything. As long as he gets his work done he’s allowed to just go through the motions until he meets up with Hinata, who hangs onto his arm when they ride the train together, despite being tall enough now to reach the lowest hanging rails. Not that Kageyama is complaining. 

However, it’s minute seven of his twenty minute solo ride and he’s regretting not jumping in front of the tracks when he had the chance. Or not bursting through the window of his five story computer classroom. Every stifled breath is a concealed gasp, and the only reason he isn’t shaking is because the sickening sway of the train car does it for him. 

_You’re sweating. Why are you sweating? Are you that out of shape already? Gonna pass out on the stairs later, huh? Disgusting._

_Whatever you do. Don’t. Cough. Or sneeze. Or clear your throat. No one here is as loud as you are don’t disturb them._

Sensory overload, his doctor told him the one time Kageyama was brave enough to mention it. He forgets the fancy, technical term for it, but he doesn’t need a dictionary to explain what he’s feeling. 

He’s hyper aware of how the pole feelings in his hand; warm and tacky, like sweat has dried from under hands before his. His shirt has ridden up in the back and he wants to fix it, but he doesn’t want anyone to think he’s being inappropriate. He knows his cellphone is in his right pocket but if stops checking every few seconds it’ll fall out or get pickpocketed or vanish into nothingness. 

This isn’t a new feeling for Kageyama, not by a long shot. Before the accident, before he and Hinata got together. Back when he was a little kid and he hadn’t discovered volleyball yet. Back when the very thought of speaking to anyone caused his stomach to turn inside out and his eyes to burn. He buried those feelings, with time, but the end result was almost total isolation and a permanent bitchface. The former he minded much more than the latter. 

Someone five people down from him sneezes so hard he thinks he can taste it, and suddenly he feels like throwing up. He knows September is like, the beginning of the plague but seriously! Would they stop the train if he hurled? Oh god, what if he threw up on the kid? Then he’d be taken to jail for being a creeper who got their body fluids on children and he’d be sentenced to death, which he didn’t want right now to be honest. Sure like, nine ministers ago he was all for it, but twelve minutes into his twenty minute ride Tobio wasn’t the same as just stepping onto the platform Tobio. 

Unless _that_ Tobio was the fake and the real one is a death–vomit magnet who would derail the train, go to jail, die single and never experience waking up on Christmas morning with his two adopted children and his excitable husband jumping on the bed and shaking him to get up and open presents. 

And he really really _really_ needs to cough! 

_What if like, everyone you know and have ever known and ever WILL know…_

_Fucking hates you?_

At first when Kageyama feels his pocket shake he’s certain it’s that kid trying to frame him. But once he calms the heck down he realizes it’s just his phone. He knows it’s rude to answer calls on the train, but he’s three seconds away from screaming just to make sure his voice still works, so he answers without looking at the screen, a technique he developed when he first started Uni and had to make all of those scary adult phone calls. 

“Hello?” He answers, voice barely above an awkward whisper. He scowls at himself, wanting to say it again just to prove that he can be a normal, functional human being for more than ten minutes at s time. 

**“YAMA!!!”**

Jesus fucking Christ! Kageyama wretches the phone away from his ear, feeling his heartbeat in his temple. He clicks the volume down a few notches before trying again. 

“Hinata?!”

**“The best thing to ever happen just happened and I’m about to start my career as a train station broadway star.”**

… alright then. Good to know where Kageyama stands on his shelf of happiness inducing things. The only question is where did he rank in relation to spicy chocolate? He was too apprehensive to even think about it. 

“Do you even know where Broadway is?” It had been something Yachi mentioned once or twice, a place in America where people sang and put on plays and got famous really fast and tragedies even faster. New.. Jersey? Probably there if he remembered right. 

**“Shush! Don’t kill my vibe!”** The smile in his voice was so big Kageyama could see it. The one he wore after hitting Kageyama’s toss for the first time. The one he gave him on their first official date the day after Christmas in their third year. 

Kageyama changes poles as people shuffle around, and now he’s closer to the door. “Okay sooo what’s this life changing news?” 

The line grows quiet, and if it weren’t for Hinata’s heavy breaths, Kageyama would assume the call got dropped. He waits, waits like Hinata always waits for him. He’s rewarded with the tiniest voice he ever remembers hearing. 

**“I got into the sports and medicine program.”**

The air rushes from his lungs like a deflated air mattress. “What?” 

The train gives a mighty lurch, and Kageyama moves with it instead of resisting. For a moment he floats, Hinata’s words wings on his back. 

**“I got into the sports and medicine program,”** he repeats, a little louder but no less reverent. **“They.. they offered me a scholarship for next year.”**

“Shouyou..” There’s a ringing in his ears, the announcement of the next stop in a few minutes. Kageyama grips tightly to his phone and presses it harder against his ear, as if that will bring Hinata closer. The more Hinata talks the louder and faster his voice gets, until his words are a giant snake of a sentence. 

**”Like I know it doesn’t _mean_ anything yet, I still have to finish this semester and find my next classes and figure out how work fits into all of that and if I suddenly bomb all my finals—“**

“You won’t.” Kageyama's mouth can’t fit all the words he wants to say, his chest too thin, his heart too full. 

The laugh of an angel graces his ears. **”A-and there’s no guarantee but.. can you imagine? You a volleyball coach and me like, a volleyball doctor?!”**

“I wasn’t aware they had doctors for volleyballs.” Grinning like a maniac in a crowded train car was not something he planned on doing today. But he doesn’t try to stop it or hide it or cover it with his hands. He’s so incredibly immensely _insanely_ proud of his Shouyou, and he doesn’t want to feel embarrassed for loving him. Not anymore. 

**”We could work together! My students could be your players! I could go to your games and watch you get that sexy, commanding frown you always get when you’re working like seven steps ahead of everyone else.”**

Alright, he’s allowed to be a little embarrassed. “I don’t have a—“

 **”You so do, don’t even try to deny it!”** Hinata’s voice changes, slips into something low and playful and not at all appropriate for being in public. **”Or should we break out the mirror again, so I can show you just what you look like?”**

Warmth floods his face, happiness and pride and everything good. The rest of the planet is in the very last row in the auditorium of his mind. The people and their voices and body heat have all faded away, leaving him with nothing but a longing which aches less and less as the distance between them shrinks. 

“You are the _worst_ husband,” he says much, much too fondly. It scares him how much he wants that title to be real, official. How much he wants Hinata for the rest of forever, in every sense of the word. The world at large and all the black sticky tar inside of him can go straight to hell, because he’s found his purpose in life: make Hinata Shouyou happy. 

**”Not yet I’m not! And don’t even _think_ about proposing before I do. I won’t lose to you!”**

There was nothing for them to lose now, only everything to gain. But still, Kageyama doesn’t plan on letting his romantic guard down. 

The train slows down before stopping entirely. Kageyama has the perfect view through the door windows, and once they hiss open, he rushes to catch the small body that slams into him with a force seemingly too big for it. But Hinata has always loved destroying expectations. 

_I’m so proud of you_

“I think this calls for meat buns,” Hinata says, walking backwards and tugging Kageyama along with him. “And sake.”

Behind him the train departs, carrying people to who cares where. Kageyama can’t remember why he ever did, not when Hinata held the only opinion that mattered. His head is clear now, his breathing even, his body belonging to him once more, and not his tangled thoughts. 

“That sounds disgusting,” Kageyama says against warm lips. “Let’s do it.”

He’s rewarded with his favorite smile, the one that makes everything worth it. 

~+~

 _ **+Flying, Falling+**_

Sometimes he can sense it, when his mood is set to drop, and he stops it, just like that. Five minutes, ten at the most, to berate his overdramatic, manic, passive aggressive inner self until that part of him curls up and fucks off to hide inside his chest, stuck to the bottom of his ribs like old gum under a school desk. Some days are so terrifyingly simple, so boringly plain, that he honestly forgets what it’s like to feel wrong. 

Days go by, uneventful or fun or bad, but it’s not _bad_ , and that’s what ruins him. Because those bad days are like everyone else’s, where he oversleeps or bangs his head on a doorway or spills something on his white clothes. Those days he curses quietly and finds a sweater to wear or ice for the bump on his head, skips breakfast to make it to class on time and then pigs out at lunch during work. He jokes around with people, as much as he can joke around with people he isn’t too comfortable with yet. But he stands in their loose circle and offers up a comment when he can relate to the topic. 

He goes home to Hinata on those nights. They talk about their day, they make dinner together. On nights when spirits are high they dance in the kitchen or turn on the radio as they tidy up. Rarely they have friends over, instead of going out to meet them, and those nights are great, playing cards and getting drunk and falling asleep in groups on the floor. 

On really, _really_ good nights they have sex the way Kageyama likes it best. They go slow, hands relearning every curve and freckle and scar and overworked muscle. When they’re tired they often fall asleep before finishing, and wake up pressed together under the sheets. 

Or the nights when they get home from the bar, and they’re just tipsy enough for their flirting to be sexy instead of ridiculous. Those nights are undressing in the living room, rough kisses and messy hair, waking up with marks shaped like fingers and hickeys too high to cover with shirt collars. Kageyama likes those nights, too. He likes anything when Hinata is involved.

So much time will pass, and he feels like he’s morphed into a different person, someone who can talk themselves out of an episode and continue on living as normally as possible. 

But sometimes he can’t. 

It comes on suddenly like a pie in the face, because the whole world must be laughing at him. He feels it like a missed steps, and goes stumbling into the dungeon of despair before he can even wipe the dust from his knees. He’ll get irritable or bone tired or sick or tear up at any wayward thought that hasn't gone through the airport security of his subconscious, and he’s useless for the rest of the day. 

The worst is when he can feel himself slipping but doesn’t cut it off in time. When he’s left to spiral downwards at a snail’s pace, and instead of hitting rock bottom immediately he’s forced to endure all the stages, from being simply uncomfortable to doubting any and all good things that've happened in his life. By the time he reaches the end he’s stripped bare, raw and exposed to the elements. Any thought is laced with hatred and a sadness so deep it’s in his blood, the bone marrow and his nervous system. It gets to be more than a feeling, more than something in his brain. It’s a living organism festering in his lungs, leaching at his stomach and tearing at his kidneys until the blood in his veins fills his mouth and chokes him to death. 

Kageyama feels like dying but he doesn’t. He feels like he’s falling apart but his limbs stay stubbornly in place. He wants to rip his head off but he’s too weak. He wants to carve out his organs one by one, until the uncomfortable, pulsing, throbbing pain in his chest has room to move somewhere less bothersome, but he was too scared. He wants all these bad things, and only bad people want bad things, which means _he_ is bad and everything he did was bad and—

These days blend together, turning time into meaningless numbers and dates into warped sounds. His mind grows cold, empty, the only way he can function. He doesn't know how he brings about dissociation during his morning class and keeps a straight face all the way until he slips in the shower three days later, but he doesn't question it. As long as he kept moving, breathing, turning in assignments and getting a paycheck, he doesn't care what happens. 

Food becomes dangerous. He either eats everything they have, or the very scent of cooking bacon makes him sick. He showers when he has several classes and work all in the same day, but skips a few nights when things are less productive. He only cleans the room for Hinata, so he won’t trip and get hurt. 

There are nights he sleeps on the couch, because he smells awful and he’s tired and it’ll be easier to force himself outside if he’s not in a comfy bed with the one person who makes shit worth anything. Hinata hates these nights, but he understands, doesn’t push him. He’ll brush his hair with that dry shampoo spray stuff, and fluff his pillow, and make him lunch for the next few days that Kageyama nibbles on because he’ll be damned if he lets that hard work go to waste. He may be the biggest sack of crap on the face of the earth, but Hinata deserves to have his efforts acknowledged. 

His mother calls sometime in mid-November, asking about birthday plans, throwing out ideas on days she _knows_ that Hinata is busy. So he plays along, suggesting places his father hates on days where he’s free the entire day, until, for the first time in twenty years, he curses in front of her and hangs up mid sentence. It doesn’t feel as good as his eighteen year old self thought it might be. 

Around this time, three weeks edging into a month, is when people start to notice. He’s been frowning practically his whole life (he hasn’t but he’s been made to believe it by people who don’t know how much weight their words have) so him coming to work like a zombie isn’t _new_. But the vacant, thousand yard stare he’s sporting lately is cause for some concern. In the beginning he was angry with himself; he should’ve been able to hide it better, to present as a well adjusted normal human person. But now he’s silently thankful that these people, who might as well be strangers to him and vice versa, are good enough people to not get him fired for spacing out as much as he does. 

Everything comes to a head at some point. 

Hinata only yells at him when he’s scared, scared for Kageyama or what he thinks Kageyama night do, even though so far he hasn’t done anything. But Kageyama feels the same way, when Hinata starts crying out of nowhere and shakes like a tumble dryer, so he doesn’t yell back at him. He hasn’t in awhile. Maybe because he’s matured, or maybe because he’s scared, too. Scared that if he lets those old habits take over, any and all progress he’s made will go right down the tubes. 

Those nights spent in Hinata’s arms are neither good nor bad. Maybe it’s both. Hinata doesn’t call him names or say that he’s useless or reads him the same list of ‘feel better’ tips Kageyama’s had memorized since he entered junior high. He brushes his hair away from his face and hits him with a soft, exasperated look that seems to say: 

**Would you be with someone who talks to you the way you think about yourself?**

And Kageyama sighs: 

_But you don’t talk to me that way_

He gets a kiss for trying. 

**Because I love you**

Which is more than enough to calm him on those nights. 

~+~

_**+Cool Down+** _

After twenty-one years, officially as of ten minutes ago, Kageyama still isn’t used to getting attention. But he’s learning to be okay with it. Because he has friends now who want to be with him, and classmates who know his name and wave to him in the halls, and he’s noticed that, when he smiles, his face doesn’t feel so heavy. Even if it still looks wobbly sometimes. 

They’ve gathered at Hinata’s house, him and about twenty others, because it’s big enough to fit all the people that have been invited to a rather unimportant—

“No bad thoughts on your birthday!” Natsu leaps onto his back, and jams a colorful, pointed cone on his head. “House rules, Tobio-niichan!” 

Kageyama grunts and pretends to struggle under her weight, before swinging her around in front of him. “Since when can you tell what I’m thinking?”

Yachi pokes him in the side then hands him a cup of mixed fruit punch. Why was everyone popping up out of nowhere? Kageyama scans the immediate area for Tanaka and Nishinoya, holding the cup close to his chest, just in case. 

“You had that _errrug_ look on your face.” Natsu says plainly, like those words made any sense at all. Perhaps they did. He’s never looked at himself while thinking bad thoughts, mirrors and self hate were a bad combination. For all he knew, _errrug_ was a perfectly valid expression. 

“You’re turning into your brother.”

She giggles, glancing over her shoulder. Hinata is trapped between Bokuto and Kuroo, a dangerous duo who keep musing his hair and popping the buttons on his shirt. “Does that mean _I_ get to marry you instead of Shou-chan?”

Kageyama walks away as fast as he can, ignoring Yachi’s excited squeaking. God dammit Hinata! Did he send an itinerary of their future plans in a mass text? He can feel his social interaction bar dropping, like a videogame character, the longer the night goes on. However, instead of suffering through it like he usually does, like he was told was the right thing to do, he searches for someplace quiet. 

He works his way through the living room to the back doors, accepting shoulder bumps and half hugs and even a cheek pinch from Hinata’s mother. The snow had stopped falling a few hours ago, and the cold refreshes him, allows him a moment of solitude that is 100% a personal want, and not a product of his behavior. 

It feels…nice. 

There’s a few plastic chairs scattered about from their quickly abandoned game of musical chairs, so Kageyama dusts off the fresh snow and takes a seat, not minding too much when his pants get damp. He still got sweaty in crowds, but these were his friends, the only team that had mattered, and they’ve seen him half naked and drenched after hard practice matches, so he didn’t feel so self conscious. He knew that if he looked uncomfortable, at least five people would make it their goal to look as silly as possible to make him feel better. 

He hears the door slide open behind him, but he doesn’t open his eyes. A blanket settles around his shoulders, and a warm lump finds its way into his lap. Kageyama wraps his arms around Hinata, leaning forward to rest his chin on top of his head. 

“Natsu said you ran away from them after she spilled the beans.” Hinata’s warm breath puffs against his neck, warming him further. “I hope she didn’t embarrass you, I didn’t tell her to say anything about it.” He sounds quiet and uncertain, something he should never have to be. Not around Kageyama. 

“I think she broke Yachi,” he says, hugging Hinata tighter. “But it wasn’t a big secret or anything. I’m pretty sure the team knew I loved you before you did.” Kageyama certainly hadn’t known, not right away. He hadn’t known what to look for. Volleyball was his life, or it had been, but Hinata was something deeper, something precious and irreplaceable. 

Hinata Shouyou made Kageyama feel _normal_. And after six years of knowing him, he’s still blown away by the fact that they’re together. That Hinata loves him. After the party ends they’ll take the train back home to their apartment, and they’ll shower together in their bathroom, and fall asleep in their bed. Together. How the fuck had he managed to hold onto someone so incredible? What sacrifice in his past life was great enough to warrant such a reward? 

“I’m really proud of you, ya know.” Hinata’s eyes watch his backyard, eyes blinking lazily, content. 

Kageyama is cold-warm and can't think of any major fuck ups he’s made in the past week, so he doesn’t dismiss Hinata’s words. “For what?” 

Hinata shrugs then, not like himself at all. “Dunno. Everything? I’ve always been proud of you.”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that? You’ve been having a harder time than me.” His legs feels heavy with Hinata’s weight on them, but when Hinata makes to stand up his heart lurches in a panic. _Shit shit shit don’t freak out just breath this is Hinata he’s not gonna dump you on your birthday just don’t freak out—_

“It doesn’t matter how ‘bad’ I feel. You don’t feel that. Just like I can’t feel you. And things have been hard for both of us. So I’m really really proud of you okay?!” Tears glisten in Hinata’s eyes, threatening to spill over. “Y-you rewrote your whole future just to be closer to me cause _you_ wanted to. Your grades this semester were the highest they’ve ever been! You take care of me and put up with all my whining and crying and _stupid leg cramps_ , and you never get angry when I wake you up at night with all my twitching. I’m so fucking proud of you, Tobio!” 

He’s crying in earnest now, hot, fast tears and a red, running nose that he stubbornly wipes away on his ugly Christmas sweater sleeve. 

“Shouyou,” Kageyama whispers, voice stolen by the wind. “It’s..it’s okay, okay? Don’t cry.” He takes over cleaning his face, the fingers of his other hand lightly scratching the base of Hinata’s scalp. “Where’s all this coming from?” 

_What are you talking about,_ Kageyama wants to ask. Hinata’s got it all backwards. _He’s_ the one who puts up with and takes care of Kageyama. He’d be a walking mess without him! Hinata makes him want to climb the highest mountains just so he can show him the view. He loves that boy—this man—so much it terrifies him. Does Hinata not see? Even after all this time he’s still unsure? 

Hinata’s tears slow just as quickly as they same about, and he takes a few deep breaths before speaking again. “I don’t feel like a washed up athlete with you. I try not to let it get to me, because I know you still feel guilty. But I miss volleyball, so much.” He rubs at his face, blinking heavily. “But when I’m with you it’s like the bad feelings go away. I feel _normal_.” 

Kageyama laughs. 

It’s a choked, gasping sound that leaves him winded and lightheaded. Hinata grips his shoulders, eyes so wide Kageyama can see the whites around his pretty brown. His arms lock around Hinata as he pulls him into a crushing hug, his body shaking without sound. He feels like he’s lost his mind, or gained a very important part of it back. 

A year ago it seemed like he’d lost everything. His hope for school, his enthusiasm for the future, his drive, his motivation. Shouyou. But he didn’t. 

“Kageyama?”

He didn’t because this tiny, infuriating, stubbornly amazing person has decided he was worth staying with. Has decided he was worth being someone to rely on. Hinata loved him without any strings or expectations, and no matter how old he gets, that’s the only gift he’ll ever need. 

“It’s the same for me,” he says, the awe soft on his lips like the wind. “You make me feel the same way. You always have.” It takes a minute for Hinata to decipher his meaning, but when he does he shoves his face into his chest and rubs his head against his chin, whining like a kitten when he can’t find the words to express himself. Not that Kageyama ever needs them. 

“We are never breaking up. Like ever. I am yours to have for eternity. So you better start liking my cooking.” He feels Hinata go stiff in his arms, but he stops his brain from jumping to conclusions for once. He pulls back from their embrace and peers down into his boyfriend’s pink face. 

“You.. you really wanna cash in on that thirty year promise, huh?” Hinata laughs, trying to play off how breathless he is. His hands tighten in Kageyama’s shirt, still nervous somehow. Maybe he really is the luckiest dumbass, though Kageyama swears it’s him. 

“I’ve still got like, twenty seven more to convince you to extend the contract.” He kisses Hinata’s forehead, feeling entirely warm despite the low temperature. “But by then I plan on being the volleyball doctors trophy husband.” 

Hinata’s giggle is his favorite sound, and even after he grows quiet, the tune still rings in his ears. That’s the one thing that hasn’t changed, a constant Kageyama is immensely grateful for. Change was a good thing, a necessary thing, but some things didn’t need to be different. And when they were, they only got better. Now Kageyama knows that certain smiles are just for him, _because_ of him, and he’d live his life all over again as long as he could end up right back here, where he doesn’t have to change alone. Not anymore. 

They sit for a while, outside in the cold, wrapped up together like a gift from the universe. Kageyama feels ready to go back inside, to absorb more attention than he ever thought he’d get, that he was slowly learning to deserve, if only because people cared enough to give it to him. Another change that he was getting used to. 

“Hey, Tobio?” Hinata sounds better, like himself again. He uncurls from the ball he became in Kageyama’s lap and loops his arms around his shoulders.

“Yeah?” 

His favorite smile seems to light up the entire backyard. Kageyama’s chest gets tight as his heart grows and pushes against his ribs. He feels pretty damn invincible right now. He knows it won’t last forever, and that there will be bad days, days where opening his eyes will feel like the toughest of challenges. But he knows he can do it. He has friends in his corner, and a boyfriend who once made a PowerPoint presentation about all of his good qualities (which is saved onto his laptop). 

But most importantly, he has himself, and even though it’s been hard, he’s starting to really like who he’s becoming. 

“Happy birthday.” 

_Things can only go up from here._

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to get artsy yet again. In the non dialogue parts, Hinata is bold, Kageyama’s intrusive–bad thoughts are italics, and his own thoughts are underlined italics.


End file.
